


Change

by TheStrangeSeaWolf



Series: Darkness and Light [4]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Acceptance, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Flashback on s08e08 Mummy on the Orient Express, Flashback on s09e02 The Witch's Familiar, Flashbacks, Hurt/Comfort, New New York Hospital, POV Twelfth Doctor, Post-Episode: s09e02 The Witch's Familiar, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Regeneration, Spoilers for Episode s09e02: The Witch's Familiar, Suicidal Thoughts, Telepathic Bond, You are not alone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-26
Updated: 2019-09-26
Packaged: 2020-10-28 20:04:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20784338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheStrangeSeaWolf/pseuds/TheStrangeSeaWolf
Summary: There is a reason why the Doctor wants to hide what happened on Skaro. He was determined to do what he felt was the best solution to the problem at hand. But his impossible girl has made him falter. Now he's desperate to find an alternative solution.





	Change

**Author's Note:**

> **Trigger warning: This next chapter including these notes deal with suicide and suicidal thoughts. **
> 
> Have you ever thought through what happened in the episodes The Magican's Apprentices and The Witch's Familiar? Effectively the Doctor prepares for his own death in the first one. He is convinced there is no way to avoid it and accepts it.
> 
> But what always gives me shivers is that when in the second episode Missy frees him from the cables, he immediately knows that the old Daleks in the sewers will turn against their successors with the new energy. He knew that this will happen. He knew that it was a trap and willingly offering regeneration energy will allow Davros and Colony Sarff to drain it from him, effectively killing him and probably all future regenerations. What we see here is a Doctor who is fully aware that what he does is suicide. He has seen that Missy and Clara got killed. He can't count on them coming to his rescue anymore. And, as he thinks Clara is dead, he probably doesn't see a point in staying alive. 
> 
> Moffat sure writes some dark Doctor, but this is probably the darkest he ever wrote - and he did Face the Raven, Heaven Sent and Hell Bent...
> 
> On a side note: 
> 
> If you are toying around with suicidal thoughts, be sure that you are more loved than you think. And you are far braver than you think. Get help. There is no point in fighting this war alone if there are people out there who can help you. Don't think of it as a cry for help or anything along these lines. It's the brave deed of a brave person. Let [Boggle the Owl](https://9gag.com/gag/a2NXEze/im-a-therapist-and-keep-this-poster-in-my-waiting-room-apparently-its-saved-a-few-lives) tell you something.
> 
> If you have a loved one who is dealing with depression or suffering from grief or post-traumatic stress, let them know that you are there. You don't need to find the right words. Sometimes you don't even need to talk. Just you being there can help so much. If someone is in a dark pit it's difficult to get out. And it's not a linear road of darkness, there are ups and downs. Someone who seems stable and cracks jokes can be in deep despair inside. Someone who is sad but talks about it might be better off than the silent one. Some people feel uncomfortable talking about it. They might, however, be ulimately grateful if someone just distracts them from their thoughts, invites them for a walk or just pops over for sharing some chitchat over a cup of tea. 
> 
> If someone commits suicide you didn't even realize they were depressed: Don't assume it was your fault. Some people are exceptionally smart in hiding their real self. 
> 
> Just be aware of the people you are with and don't take everything at face value.  
Be there, that's the most important thing.

Clara had been fallen asleep. He felt her breast heaving along with her steady breath underneath his head. He fought back the desire to just stay that way, safe in her arms. He couldn’t allow himself to sleep. The nightmares could disturb Clara, creeping inside her head when they were so close. And he had a lot of thinking to do.

Slowly he rose, carefully avoiding any movement that could disturb her sleep. It was not so easy; his limbs were numb and tense from lying in the same position for too long. Finally, he stood upright, looking down at his human companion. He sighed at the sight. She shuddered lightly in her sleep. Right, humans were always freezing when they fell asleep. He remembered the time after they had been on the Orient Express with that mummy and she had been fallen asleep in the TARDIS.

A blanket. He looked around. Of course, the TARDIS had provided one, made from the softest wool from New Caledonia 2. It was not dyed and therefore light green like the sheep on that planet. He spread it and wrapped Clara carefully. She immediately cuddled into it and sighed contentedly. He let his healthy hand hover over her hair, without touching it. His hearts clenched. If she only knew. 

He needed to think about the mess he had gotten himself into. He flipped mentally through the places he usually went to when he had thinking to do. None of them seemed fitting. If he was honest, he wanted to stay by Clara’s side. Close. Not too close, though. Finally, he took one of the armchairs and placed it closer to the sofa. That way he could watch her sleep while thinking.

It had all seemed to be such a perfect plan: He had lost a lot of regeneration energy. He didn’t know exactly how much, but probably enough that it cost him a few regenerations. He would simply regenerate now. This self had too many flaws. Maybe he could regenerate into a man Clara deserved. Maybe a young ginger fellow who could swipe her off her feet with ease. Or a brilliant blonde woman, who knows. Not some grumpy old Scotsman, anyway.

He had been ready to die when he was teleported to Skaro. He had had his goodbye party. 3 weeks and it had been fun. He had confessed what he felt needed to be confessed. He had sent his confession dial to his oldest friend. Missy was insane, but he had been sure that at this crucial point she would honor the traditions of their home planet. And if not, well, he had assumed he would not be able to deal with the consequences anyway.

He had finally decided that he wouldn’t say goodbye to Clara. He couldn’t bring himself to do it. He hated goodbyes, always had. She had shown up anyway, an unexpected but welcome chance to see her one final time. His impossible girl always found him, no matter what he did.

He smiled at the memory of her being surprised that he saw her in all that crowd. Didn’t she seriously know that he always saw her? And despite of all the terrible things that happened on Skaro, there she lay before him. Still there, unharmed, unhurt, alive.

When they had returned to the TARDIS, his decision was final. He would regenerate now. He was already prepared to die for good and now he even had the chance to regenerate. It was an exceptional gift, probably more than he deserved.

It would be pretty easy. This self had one really extraordinary trait: his iron will. He could increase his will to survive up to 99% even if his vital force was nearly gone, fighting back regeneration. Just the same he could lower it to the point where he would regenerate at will. He granted himself one final evening with Clara. Just sitting with her in the library, feeling her presence. Smelling her distinct smell. Probably better not looking at her for the fear of her sensing what he was about to do.

That’s when things went wrong. Or was it right? Oh, damn it, he didn’t know what to make of it.

First, she had urged him to bond with him telepathically. Telling him effectively she wanted to be by his side, no matter where he went. Then, she had convinced him that she accepted him, the whole of him, with all his fears, rage and insecurities, that she didn’t think less of him because of his faults. And finally, she was shocked when she discovered he was close to regeneration. For some reason she wanted him to be that grumpy old Scotsman. She really panicked at the thought of losing this version of him.

The way she held him when they connected again and he showed her what happened on Skaro. The way she had taken care of his injured hand. The way she had guided him to the library and invited him to rest his head on her breast. The way her arms held him protectively. It felt so good, so right.

Then her confession that she wanted to smell his hair. And all the stories of their shared adventures. She really drove home the point that she wanted to be together with this him and not another version.

Now, here he was. Staring down at his impossible girl, sound asleep. And she had no idea that he didn’t know what to do now. Only a few hours ago he wanted to regenerate, wanted nothing more than to get rid of this stupid old body. Now this new feeling was there. He didn’t want to give himself permission to believe that he was… that his Clara really…

He snapped himself out of this thought. He had a problem to solve, no time to delve into what it could mean if their feelings were truly mutual. He was a timelord with a critical low vital force and he didn’t need his sunglasses to know that his body was still considering regeneration. He got up to pace the room. The question was how to treat a massive loss of regeneration energy.

He went to one of the bookshelves and took out a huge tome. “Timelord Biology” by Roskatha. His fingers scanned the index and flipped to the page about regeneration energy.

“After a massive loss of regeneration energy, it is advisable to prescribe strict bed rest. Data indicates that putting the body at rest can have a revitalizing effect. However, so far scientists have not found a way to restore loss of regeneration energy that dropped beneath the critical threshold of 50%. Data on this subject is scarce, but it suggests that if the vital force drops beyond this point, immediate regeneration is the only way to ensure survival of the affected timelord.”

A slight humming sound from the TARDIS. She had materialized a box of folders on the side table. Clinical records from the New New York Hospital. All records from timelords that were treated after loss of regeneration energy. He thanked his faithful girl, suspecting the way she got them was not strictly legal. The TARDIS made a protesting noise, followed by one that was her distinct “and besides, I don’t give a damn!” sound. He smiled.

He took the first folder and flipped through it, continuing through the box. With every new folder his hearts sank.

“After 24 hours, regeneration was the only option to save the patient.”

“Regeneration took place around 3 p.m.” 

“Last readings had the will to survive at 5% and the vital force at 25%. It is suspected that the combination of extreme low will to survive and low vital force let to the death of the patient. It is assumed that the body was either damaged beyond the point regeneration was possible or the timelord had no regeneration left.”

“The patient agreed to regenerate after seeing her readings.”

It went on and on like this. Not good. Definitely not good.

“What’s this?”

He startled when a hand touched his shoulders. He turned around to see Clara standing beside him, eying the documents curiously.

“Nothing.” He murmured, stuffing the folders back into the box in a haste.

She quickly reached around him, snatched a folder, took three steps and turned around to have a look at it.

“Hey!” he exclaimed.

“Superior teacher skills.” she quipped. “What’s this all about? These are clinical records. Are you sick?”

He was sure he could place that look. Not cross. Concern. She was concerned. As far as he had read the material at hand, she had any right to be. He didn’t want her to worry about him, though.

“No, don’t be silly. I’m searching something for a friend.”

“Okay. What is the problem of this friend?”

“Nothing really. Just boring timelord administration stuff. Something for his tax declaration.”

He saw her lifting one eyebrow. She didn’t believe him. Granted, it didn’t sound entirely convincing. She managed to grab another folder before he could stop her. Her face grew even more concerned.

“Your friend has not eventually lost a significant amount of regeneration energy?” She asked.

She was exceptionally smart for a human.

“Might be.”

“What has happened to him?”

“I promised not to tell.”

“Sure you did. Okay, Doctor. These are all records from timelords. As far as I know Missy and you are the only timelords around. I’m pretty sure you are not worried about Missy, although your relationship seems to be… special.”

He winced. She hadn’t forgiven him for sending his confession dial to Missy. He looked up. No, she still seemed concerned. Confused and concerned.

“No, not Missy.” He uttered.

“So, it’s you. A massive loss of regeneration energy sure explains your low life force. What happened?”

He turned his back on her. He couldn’t. He couldn’t look her in the eyes and tell her.

“Was it when you removed the probes? The Dalek probes? Missy said she didn’t know if and how they can be removed. Did you use regeneration energy when you removed them?”

He heard her voice tremble. No, no, no, no, no. Yes, he had to use some regeneration energy when removing the probes, but he had only used a small fraction, only enough to heal the damage directly done to the brain, because she wouldn’t have survived otherwise. But he was already too drained to heal everything. She should under no circumstances feel responsible for his condition.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Clara, you can still feel the marks on your temples, don’t you?”

She raised her hands and touched her temples.

“What happened, Doctor? What have they done to you on Skaro? Show me.”

She tried to wrap her arms around him from behind, but he quickly escaped, running down the stairs to the console room, crossing it, running faster until he reached his room. He locked the door, although he was not sure if the TARDIS would respect his wish this time.

He sat down on his bed, burying his head in his hands. He couldn’t tell her. He sure wouldn’t show her.

In his mind, he was on Skaro again.

He saw, he felt it all over again.

_“I regret I cannot open my eyes.”_

He knew what Davros had been plotting, luring him to use his regeneration energy to help him see the sunrise with his own eyes.

He knew that as soon as he opened his veins to transfer a little of that energy, they had arranged something that would drain it completely from him. He didn’t know how they would do it, but he knew they would, and kill him in the process without any hope for him to regenerate.

He didn’t care. If his Clara was dead, he didn’t want to live on. If she was not running by his side, he didn’t want to travel the universe. It would be meaningless and empty. Everything felt meaningless and empty when she was not there.

The energy would feed the sewers, and the old, decaying Daleks would kill their younger successors. It would make the universe safer, but it would be a cruel deed on his behalf none the less. His death would be a just punishment. This timelord would simply die, every sign of him forever gone. As his confession dial would remain on Skaro, his mind would never be uploaded to the matrix. It was the ultimate, most complete death for a timelord.

Besides, with his death he would make amends for all the other bad things he did in his life. For everything he did in the Time War. For all the bad decisions he made, all the cruelty that emerged from having to choose, even if there were only bad choices. For everyone he left behind. For every life he altered irreversibly by changing things in time and space.

_The snakes, binding him to the cables, holding him in place._

_“…your compassion is your downfall!” he heard Davros, triumph in his voice._

_Everything went black before his eyes._

_“You have opened your veins of your own free will, and all Daleks shall drink the blood of Gallifrey. They shall rise stronger than ever! “_

_The unbearable pain._

_Sucking all life out of him, slowly, but steadily._

_The feeling of relief._

_No more running, no more fears, no more being alone. _

_Ready to let go._

_The pain…_

_He screamed. _

_And screamed._

Suddenly two arms wrapped around him and pulled him forward. He felt another body close and for a moment it didn’t make any sense to him. He was on Skaro, he was about to die.

“Shhh, Doctor, it’s alright, I’m here. You are safe. You are in the TARDIS. Safe. You are not on Skaro. You are in your TARDIS. Do you hear me?”

That voice. Clara. She was dead. No, she wasn’t dead. She was there, standing in front of him, holding him tight, talking to him in a soothing voice.

Slowly, the images of Skaro faded and he became aware that he was in his own room. In the TARDIS.

It still didn’t make sense.

He looked up and his eyes met a pair of brown eyes in a broad face with beautiful brown hair.

“Clara!” his voice sounded hoarse from screaming.

“It’s alright, Doctor, I’m here.” She stroked his head.

He wrapped his arms around her, burying his head to her waist. He inhaled deeply, smelling her distinct smell. It helped him to calm down his nerves.

“My Clara.” He mumbled.

Then a terrible thought occurred to him. How much had his brain given away from what had happened? Had his shields been completely down? Had she seen what he had done? What he wanted to do? He needed to know. He looked directly into her eyes.

“How much did you see?”

“Not much. I heard you scream and came in. I held you and tried to snap you out of the flashback. I felt you were in pain and I saw that it was on Skaro.”

He felt relief. She hadn’t seen too much.

“And I saw that you wanted to die.”

His hearts clenched. She shouldn’t have seen that. She shouldn’t have to know how deep his despair was. She shouldn’t worry about him. If he was going to regenerate, she should remember this version as her impulsive and ingenious timelord who always found a way to get the two of them out of misery. She shouldn’t remember the broken wreck that sat before her.

“Doctor, what have they done to you?”

Part of him wanted nothing more than to bury himself in her arms, feeling her comforting warmth and show her what had happened and what went wrong. Another part, however, feared to lose her respect. Would she think of him as a coward when she learned he had decided to kill himself? Would she think he was insane, letting them suck out his energy? Would she stay by his side when she learned that the only chance he had to survive was to regenerate? And even then, what he learned from the clinic records, it was not sure he would survive. Most probably he had burned up so many regeneration energy that the next version of him was crippled, maybe unable to walk, maybe without hands, maybe blind and deaf. It was hopeless.

“It’s not.”

He heard her voice tremble. Obviously, the flashback had been so strong that his ability to shield his brain effectively had suffered. She had been able to read his thoughts. He heard her swallow hard. He felt her hand reaching down to his chin to make him look at her. He saw her eyes, inflated, full of tears.

“Doctor, I don’t know what they have done to you, but I know that you are no coward. You are exceptionally brave, sometimes more than you should be. Whatever made you decide to let them suck the energy out of you, I’m sure it seemed to you to be the best of all bad choices that time.”

She placed her hand on his cheek. He felt her stroke it with her thumb.

“If regeneration is the only option, I’m here and I will stay with you. And I don’t care if the next Doctor is blind or has no legs or looks like a Slitheen. I don’t know how the relationship to a new regeneration would be and I’m pretty sure I prefer this version of you to any other. But of course, I will stay with you after regeneration, because you are the Doctor, and this is what matters most.”

He felt her words more than he heard them. He felt the warmth of acceptance and affection wash over him. They soothed his hearts like warm, golden sunbeams. He closed his eyes and leaned into her hand.

“Now, don’t you think you should show me what happened, so I understand? Maybe we find a way out of this together?”

**Author's Note:**

> Question: The New New York Hospital is a highly developed future medical facility. Why do they still have paper records?  
Answer: They are catpeople. I can imagine that the hospital's registrar just loves the sound of wrinkling paper and takes catnaps on the records when no one is looking.


End file.
